


when we went from friends to this

by jenhrding



Category: Dead To Me (TV)
Genre: F/F, friends with benefits with no feelings but is it really?, jen is spiraling again, michelle shows up for a bit but doesn't really say anything, post season 2 is all i write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:13:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26867209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenhrding/pseuds/jenhrding
Summary: "That’s the other thing, they’re together but not exactly. Jen doesn’t understand it, isn’t sure if she wants to understand it, because, really, they fuck sometimes and it’s not a big deal, it’s not like she’s in love with Judy or anything."or friends with benefits turns into friends with feelings
Relationships: Judy Hale/Jen Harding
Comments: 6
Kudos: 94





	when we went from friends to this

**Author's Note:**

> seriously i say im studying for college and then i write +5k words but there you go  
> i might hate this when i wake up idk  
> title from paper rings by tswift as always

Jen is happy now. Finally, after many bumps in the road — quite literally if you count the two hit and runs they’ve been involved in within the past year —, things are good, settling into place.

Judy sleeps in her bed because it makes sense. They share a house, bills and kids so, why not? It’s even better now that they bought a new mattress because, still, there was something about the room that screamed _Ted_ , in a way that was unsettling for both. She didn’t mention it when she suggested it though, said it was because the mattress was getting too soft for her back, so they went out and got one together. Judy paid half of it, just as she does everything else, and, yes, some of it is still illegal money, but what in the past year have they done that _wasn’t_ illegal? And also, some of it isn’t. The majority of it is money that Judy earned with her job and paintings, and Jen is proud of her, for finally detaching herself from Steve, from his power over her. She can work and she can be successful too, thank you very much.

She bought a new car for herself. Charlie got her previous one and didn’t even complain because it’s still a great fucking car. She thinks she deserves it, even if now they’ve somehow turned into that family in which every member who drives has their own car, that snob family she hates but not enough to not be, because it’s comfortable, it’s nice, and maybe it does make her feel powerful when Charlie drives Henry to school in a car but she picks him up in another when her oldest wants to go out with his girlfriend. She knows how that looks, how other parents notice that they have money now — yeah, she got an expensive car for herself because fuck Steve and his eighty thousand dollar Mercedes that fucked her and her plan over —, because, apparently, ever since Ted died, her life has become the epicenter of gossip between Henry’s classmates’ parents.

Judy kept her car, still, said it reminds her of Abe and that she probably won’t ever sell it. Jen joked with a “ _yeah, until it stops working in the middle of the road at eleven pm_ ”, to which Judy answered a “ _then you’ll just have to come save me, baby_ ” while batting her lashes before they laughed and went back to their wine.

That’s the other thing, they’re together but not exactly. Jen doesn’t understand it, isn’t sure if she _wants_ to understand it, because, really, they fuck sometimes and it’s not a big deal, it’s not like she’s in love with Judy or anything.

It started when they were drinking a little too much because, seriously, _what doesn’t_? And Jen casually mentioned how she missed sex. It wasn’t supposed to mean anything, she said “ _Ben wasn’t extraordinary, but it was something. It’s hard to get something once and then not get it at all, you know? At least before I wasn’t thinking about it_ ”. She meant to complain. Ben was a delirious moment in her life that she’d never repeat — him looking too much like Steve was enough to snap her out of it when she came to her senses. And Ted was good, in the beginning, but it had been so long that she barely remembered it. So, she missed it, even if just the ordinary, scripted sex she always had with the men in her life, that managed to do it for her but didn’t exactly compare to the orgasms her own fingers brought. She missed someone else’s touch, even so. Then, Judy, in all Judy fashion if she really stops to analyze it, said “ _you already know I like women, I’m here if it ever gets too unbearable_ ” and winked. The second she heard the words she hated them, because they didn’t exactly show desire, but then she considered them, it was not like she needed it, specifically, she just wanted to have someone else making her come, and judging by the way Michelle was hooked to Judy after their first time, she thought it might not be that bad after all. So when she said “ _fine_ ” and pulled Judy into her lap a minute later, it felt weird, but not bad, not at all.

And it never got bad. Somehow she managed to forget along the way that the Judy she fucks is the same Judy that parents her kids — _that_ definitely helped her to let go. And now she catches herself wondering if she even likes men, if she likes women, or if she truly just likes Judy. But not in a _liking_ way, just in the attraction sense of the word, it’s not like she can deny that anymore. Also, it doesn’t hurt that, now, Judy seems to want her, actually looks at her with something like lust in her eyes when they’re alone, she hasn’t felt that look on her in so long that she can’t help but feel breathless every time, even if she already knows that their chemistry works, even if she already knows that Judy will be moaning her name at the end of the night.

Jen can’t say it isn’t good to feel wanted, can’t say she doesn’t think about Ted anymore. Because she does. She thinks of him when she goes shopping for bras, thinks of him when she looks at herself in the mirror before getting in the shower, thinks of him the moment before Judy takes off her shirt and then he disappears from her mind a second later. It’s good to be wanted because she hasn’t been in a while — honestly, Ben didn’t fucking count —, because she remembers those nights in which she was on top of her husband begging “ _please, Ted, I’ll keep my bra on, please_ ” when she couldn’t stand not being desired anymore, when the self-hatred was so deep within her bones that she needed _anything_ , any glimpse of crave from him, from anyone, to keep going. It was humiliation at its finest and it never really worked, but she needed it, needed him to poorly remind her that maybe she was still worth it, perfect breasts or not. And she missed when things were good, missed the first years when all they did was be all over each other, when she used to come so many times in a week it was invigorating. She missed feeling alive while having sex, doing it because she wanted to and not because she needed to prove something to herself. It’s why it works so well with Judy.

And it’s all about the sex, really. Jen has found herself in this weird _friends with benefits_ situation that involves co-parenting and sharing a bed. Still, they never, _ever_ , fuck in their bed. It feels as if it’d be a step further into whatever this is, as if it’d be indicating that there’s any sort of feeling tiptoeing the lines of love, of what she thinks she doesn’t feel and also knows she’s not ready for. She loves Judy, for sure, but in a platonic way, it was just a pure coincidence that her very hot best friend offered to sleep with her in a rebound sort of way. So, they fuck in the guesthouse, in the kitchen, in the the living room, even outside, but the bed is one hundred percent off limits. And it’s good. No, it’s _great_. She never thought she’d enjoy making someone come so much, but the look that overtakes Judy’s face when she does, it’s indescribable in the best possible way. It doesn’t matter that she kisses every inch of Judy’s body when they’re not rushing, it doesn’t matter that Judy clearly says “ _Jen, please_ ”, it doesn’t matter that she takes her bra off even when she didn’t with the two men she’s been with after the surgery, it doesn’t matter because she’s _not_ in love with Judy, _definitely_ _not_ in love with Judy.

She’s pulling her clothes back on, one afternoon when they both have day offs but the boys are at school, because Jen hasn’t wanted to fuck someone this much since the first year of her marriage — it doesn’t mean anything, at all —, still telling herself it’s all about the attraction, it’s all about the fact that she’s learning how women’s bodies work, it’s new and fun, so she caves in and they do it after lunch too. She feels Judy looking at her, still lying under the grey sheets of what used to be her bed, and just _looking_ , staring. It’s unsettling, to say the least, especially because she’s not looking back, can’t tell what Judy’s thinking, can’t tell if the look means more than it’s supposed to.

“Will you stop staring at me?” It’s firm, sure, but there’s no bite to it, no hate.

“Sorry.” Judy smiles and looks down.

“Are you okay?” Jen asks, moving to sit on the edge of the bed, a hand laying on Judy’s thigh.

“Yeah, sure.” She looks up, then. But Jen knows her, can tell when her smile is forced.

“Doesn’t seem like it.” The blonde runs her right hand through brown locks once to get her attention before smiling. “Come on, what’s going on?”

“Do you like me?”

“What? Judy, of course I like you. I love you, you know that.”

“I just mean... I know you love me, but do you _like_ me? Do you like who am I? Or am I just that kind of relative that you love because you have to but you don’t really like being around?”

“Jude, where is this coming from?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Honey, if I didn’t like you do you think we’d spend this much time together?”

“Having sex?” Judy frowns, shaking her head a bit.

“No, Jude. Just hanging out, watching TV, talking, that stuff.”

“We haven’t done a lot of that lately.”

Jen realizes, then, where it’s all coming from, why Judy is acting off. She’s been so caught up in her own shit, in trying to convince herself that she has no romantic feelings towards her that she has pushed her away completely, except when she’s trying to fuck her. It sinks in how much of a shitty friend she has been, wonders if Judy likes _her_ then.

“I’m sorry I’ve been distant. I promise I’ll make it up to you, okay?” Judy nods, looking sheepish. “Let’s hang out tonight, like we used to, alright? I’m gonna check some emails and then I’m gonna go out and get that wine you like.”

“Okay.” She smiles despite her pout. “Thank you.”

“Of course. I’ll see you.”

If she kisses Judy’s forehead, she’s not gonna dwell on it for long.

***

She’s certain that they’re on the same page. She knows that Judy knows that they’re sleeping together because they missed it, because they work and it’s good, not because there’s attachment. They’re friends. Jen doesn’t think it means anything that she wraps her arms around Judy in the middle of the night, that she watches in awe while Judy makes dinner, that she smiles stupidly when Judy places a kiss on her cheek before work. Everything is fine, she doesn’t feel anything other than physical need, she doesn’t want more, doesn’t need more. Romantic love is long gone for her and she is fine with it, there is no crave, even if she knows that there is for Judy. Judy wants the great romantic love from the books and movies, she wants the feeling, wants to be worshipped and cared for and loved in the way she knows she deserves now. This is why Jen hasn’t said anything about making things exclusive, because as selfish as she can be, she is not _that_ shitty of a friend, and she also thinks Judy deserves to have what she wants. The idea is great: they do this for now and when someone comes along the way they stop and Jen goes back to her vibrator. She doesn’t think about the fact that she was sickeningly jealous of Steve and Nick and Michelle, she doesn’t think because she convinces herself that it was because of the situation, that she’s not so co-dependent anymore, that Judy can date whoever she wants and she won’t care.

It comes as a slap in the face when Michelle calls Judy and she’s forced to face whatever dynamic this is. Judy doesn’t know she’s listening, she’s in their bedroom and Jen just got home, stopped on the other side of the door when she heard Judyon the phone. In her defense, she didn’t _mean_ to pry, she was entering the room either way, but then she heard a “ _Michelle?_ ” in a surprised tone from the other side and got curious. She thinks that if she gets in, Judy might be more discreet regarding the subject of the conversation, and she really, _really_ , wants to know. She hears a faint “ _you want to see me? why?_ ”, followed by a “ _oh... well, I can’t say I didn’t miss you too_ ” that may or may not give Jen a slight sinking feeling in her stomach, don’t mention it. Then there’s a “ _we can’t be anything more than friends... I’m not... available... yeah, sure..._ ”, so Jen waits a few seconds until she’s hanging up and walks in, pretending like she just got there.

“Were you on the phone?” She regrets it a bit, when they promised no more lies, but she considers it’s more of an omission — she's always been good at lying to herself.

“Yeah. Michelle said she wants to see me.” Judy throws her phone on the bed and fidgets with her fingers a little. “Do you want to come with me? We’re having coffee.”

“I think she just wants to see you, Jude.” Jen lets out a chuckle and sits on top of the covers, earning a stare from Judy.

“Oh, okay.” And it’s a look she can’t have, Judy resembling a kicked puppy isn’t great for her decision making.

“If you really want me to, I’ll go. But doesn’t she want to catch up or something? Maybe do a little more than that.” She teases, it’s fine. This is fine. There isn’t anything bubbling up inside her that feels a little too much like jealousy.

“I don’t think so. I, um...” Judy sits down too. “Never mind.”

“Hey, just tell me.”

“I told her I didn’t want anything more.”

“Yeah? Why not?” It’s uncanny how she has become so good at lying, it’s almost nature for her now, she hates it more than she loves that it helps selling houses.

“I don’t know. I just don’t.” Judy shrugs and Jen notices it, she’s lying too.

Beginning this new thing with Judy was definitely a treacherous path from the start. It’s hard for Judy not to fall in love with people, whoever they are. She doesn’t think it is a flaw, though, even if she used it to hurt her on that fight she does not enjoy thinking back to. It’s absolutely not a flaw, but still, it’s there, and besides, Judy is a lovable person, it’s hard _not_ to fall in love with her too, so it scares her. It’s funny to think that she’s more afraid of falling than the other option, because she doesn’t think it’s a possibility. In all honesty, she thinks, why would Judy love _her_? Judy, of all people, who could have the world at her feet due to her looks and can’t stop being kind no matter the situation, who captivates everyone with an ease that is borderline enviable. There is no plausible explanation as to why Judy would ever fall for her, Jen refuses to believe it, even when the evidence is clearly punching her in the face. In any way, she knows Judy is lying because she heard her on the phone, and even if she hadn’t, Judy is truly a terrible liar, but either way, she’s not about to admit to eavesdropping, so when Judy still asks her to come, she does.

Michelle looks the same, maybe her hair is longer but Jen didn’t use to pay much attention to her. There’s a look of realization that takes up her face when she sees them walking in together, and as much as she can’t help but feel a little bit powerful, a little sense of pride, she notices, then, that Michelle doesn’t really know Judy at all. Jen knows that now because if she knew her, she would know that Judy would _never_ bring a new girlfriend to grab coffee with her ex, she’s too nice, she thinks of everyone’s feelings all the time. The last thing she wants is to hurt her feelings by rubbing it in.

It’s a bit awkward in the beginning. She knows Michelle doesn’t actually want her there, and Jen is sure that she’d rather be anywhere else, but she is also sure that she does everything Judy asks. Judy could laugh at her, humiliate her, ask for something unattainable, something that would bring out sobs from her, and she would still do it. But, sure, no romantic love there. The problem is that those thoughts bring other ones, and she has completely zoned out thinking about how she calls Judy “ _baby_ " on a usual basis, how she likes it when Judy threads her fingers through her hair, how there’s a feeling of loss whenever Judy gets up to make breakfast. She chokes a bit on her coffee and suddenly there are two pairs of eyes on her, one confused and the other so, _so_ concerned, so full of warmth that she has to excuse herself to the restroom because she absolutely _cannot_ deal with this right now, not with Judy and her ex sitting right next to her.

She leaves by herself after much protest from Judy. It’s been clear from the beginning that the atmosphere is weird because she is in it, and, honestly, she doesn’t want to be there anymore, doesn’t think she can handle it, and even reasons that the conversation might be better if the two of them are alone. She says she has a headache, one that might turn into a migraine if she doesn’t go home to lie down in the dark, and Judy offers to go with her. She manages to convince her to stay after caressing the back of her neck and _no_ , she’s not gonna think about it. Then, she says goodbye to Michelle and kisses the top of Judy’s head — because she still doesn’t like the idea of the woman taking Judy back, leave her alone —, leaving after saying a final “ _I'll be fine_ ” and smiling reassuringly.

Her drive home is the perfect opportunity to dwell on fear and denial. It’s starting to sink in that she might just be too much of a pussy — she’s kind of bothered by that expression now, though, now that she’s relished in the wonders of it, feels a bit hypocritical — to admit anything to herself. Sure, she thought it might happen, somehow. She did watch ' _No Strings Attached'_ and ' _Friends with Benefits'_ , but she also found those four characters extremely stupid, assumed she would be able to squash down the feeling because she isn’t that girl who fell in love after Ted showed her the tiniest bit of compassion towards the situation with her mother, not anymore, at least. She’s a full grown fucking woman, she can have a relationship just because of the sex and be just fine with it, she doesn’t fall for optimistic and bubbly women, no matter how good they look or how kind they are. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? This isn’t just having sex with someone she doesn’t know well, someone she doesn’t care for. This is Judy, who she asked to move in with her after two weeks, who bakes her cherry pies and shows her cute videos of dogs when they’re doing nothing around the house. Even if it’s amazing, she’s starting to think that this enters the list of _Jen Harding’s greatest mistakes_ , funny how realizing feelings for her best friend scares her more than hitting a man on the head until he’s dead and lying to the police for months on end.

There is just no denying then, she realizes, when she finally lies back on her bed and closes her eyes, not bothering to change and knowing Judy will complain about it if she sees it. The thought brings the slightest smile to her face and it’s then that she knows she’s utterly fucked.

***

Jen tries to stay away, she does — she could try harder, but still —, however, Judy is a magnetic force, her complete polar opposite that attracts her when they’re the tiniest bit close. She can’t help it, the way she presses Judy against the kitchen island, the way she pulls her close when they’re outside so that she’s almost sitting on her lap. It’s juvenile and dumb, and she knows she might just overflow with feelings one day or another and suddenly let out all that she’s been holding in. In reality, it’s almost like she doesn’t care, it for sure looks like it, but she’s scared beyond herself, and maybe if it accidentally comes out it will be slightly better than if she plans to say it. She’s holding onto many maybes lately.

She wakes up sick one day, not that she actually believes she is sick, but she feels her body weighing more than usual, feels an unusual coldness despite the fact that her skin is hot, and, if she’s being reasonable, she knows what it means, watched Henry and Charlie getting colds more times than she cares to remember but she doesn’t believe _she_ can get sick. They say doctors are the worst patients? Well, they haven’t met Jennifer Harding. She gets up anyway, Judy is in the bathroom, she can hear her faintly hum a song and they are way past the intimacy level that she can’t knock and walk in to take a shower. There are brown eyes on her the second she opens the door, accompanied by a frown and the slight narrow of them. She puts her hair up and is taking off her clothes when she hears a “ _are you okay?_ ”, to which she answers with a dismissive “ _just tired, a shower will help_ ”, and it definitely does warm her heart — she gave up on denying it days ago — when she gets out of the bathroom a few minutes later and sees Judy sitting on their bed, worried expression on her face.

“What's going on?” Judy asks while watching her put on clothes.

“Nothing.”

“You seem weird.”

“I’m just cold.” Her voice sounds different, more nasal, she notices.

“Are you sick?”

“No.”

“How do you know that?”

“I don’t get sick.” When she turns to Judy again, the brunette is pursing her lips in doubt.

“Everyone gets sick, Jen.”

“Not me.” She smiles and recovers quickly after she stumbles a little.

“I think you should let me check for a-“ A sneeze interrupts her. “-fever.”

“I'm _fine_. I have a showing in an hour.”

“Well, then, you really shouldn’t be going and spreading whatever this is.” Judy gestures her hand up and down and Jen walks towards her.

“Fine.” She settles herself between Judy’s thighs. “Check all you want.”

“You're definitely burning up.” She says after placing her hand on Jen’s forehead, cheek and wrist.

“Am not!” Jen crosses her arms and Judy _swears_ she sees a pout. “Look, I’ll go do that and then I’ll come back, it’s nothing.”

“No.” The woman says simply.

“You have to stop saying no to me.” She attempts a glare but she’s too dizzy to manage it.

“When you’re acting so much like a stubborn child, how could I?” Judy smiles sweetly. “Come on, give me your phone, I’ll reschedule for you, just get back into your pajamas and lie down, okay?”

Judy convinces her — truly, when doesn’t she? —, so she’s back in bed and listening as her friend talks to her client for her. The phone is on speaker and she hopes she’s not delusional when she hears a “ _her wife said she’s sick_ ” being yelled at someone who is clearly not Judy, but she’s too tired to make a comment about it. Her body feels heavier, in a way, it’s sore to move, she has a headache and is still extremely cold, besides the sneezes that come every five minutes or so. Judy goes downstairs to feed their kids when she’s done on the phone, and Jen doesn’t even realize she fell asleep until she’s woken up by her friend softly shaking her shoulder. She says she should eat something, that she already took the boys to school and brought tea and two pancakes, but Jen says she just wants to lie down. Judy, then, places the plate and cup on the dresser and walks back to the bed, lying down and wrapping an arm around Jen’s waist, who is still shaking a bit.

“What are you doing? Don’t you have work?”

“They can survive one day without me, I already called.”

“Well,-“ She turns around slowly to face Judy. “-I don’t want to get you sick too.”

“Are you admitting you’re sick?” She teases, and Jen would’ve rolled her eyes if her head wasn’t hurting so much. “It's okay, I take my vitamins. Unlike some people who barely eat breakfast.”

“I wonder who you’re talking about.” Judy hums sarcastically but lets go. “You really don’t have to stay, you know that?” And she's aware that while she says it, she’s also getting closer, snuggling up to her friend in complete contradiction to what her mouth spills out.

“I do. But I have a feeling no one really took care of you for a while, so I’m gonna do that, if that’s okay.” She’s glad her face is hidden in Judy’s neck so she doesn’t have to expose her tear filled eyes now.

It’s true, she knows. She never let herself get sick because there was no one else to go out and work, no one else that cared to bring her breakfast or hold her through a fever, no one else to make her feel less lonely. She doesn’t like to think of the surgery, but it was not like that brought much support either, it was just something she got through on her own, like every other thing, small or not. She took care of their kids, she checked their temperature, she made them soup, she caressed their hair, but she never had that, not after her mom died, she guesses. It’s one of the things she loves most about Judy, her easiness to care for others, her comfort in doing it for someone other than herself, she just has this motherly instinct that kicks in, Jen knows it because she has it too, and it’s the most solace she has felt in a while.

She used to be worse, she thinks. A year ago there was no way she would’ve stayed in bed and cancelled a showing, she would’ve taken some aspirin and powered through whatever obstacles she had, but she’s just so tired, so tired of forcing herself through a life she doesn’t want. And Judy just makes her better, in a way, a better patient, for sure. Ted didn’t give her much opening to need anything, whether it was sex, hugs or just the slightest bit of attention, she couldn’t want, couldn’t crave. Judy opens her up somehow, lets her be, free from judgment or cuffs from her old self. It’s nice. Actually, it’s fucking great. She drifts off to sleep in that comfort, that care.

***

On the day everything shifts she knows, in some way, she feels the difference in the atmosphere. Jen doesn’t wake up to an alarm screaming at her, slowly comes to her senses and remembers that it’s Saturday, that there’s no work or school and she can just rest. She also remembers, then, that she drank too much the night before, that some weird part of her brain — probably by Judy’s influence. — thought it would be fun to down three tequila shots before moving to their usual wine. Finally, she notices that she doesn’t quite remember anything else. There are flashes of laughter and scrunched up noses, dark eyes in that way she knows so well, featherlight touches to her cheek and hard grips on her thigh. She assumes, then, that they fell asleep in the guesthouse, but the weight of the duvet is not the same, there’s also a bit more of space to move as she tentatively stretches her right arm. When she opens her eyes, the room is brighter than she remembers, the walls are white and there is no tapestry on the wall, no easel on the corner, no strong smell of incense, just the slightest hint of lavender, and so she understands it, why the ambiance felt different, why there’s a buzz in her brain now, why she spent the day before with this stupid feeling that _something_ was about to happen.

She’s in her room, feels how her body is lighter because it’s softly touching the comforter, no clothes in between. She looks to her left and there she is, looking too much like an angel for what is fair at this hour in the morning, glowing in sunlight, as peaceful as ever, a faint — but not unnoticeable — purple mark on the side of her neck. Okay, maybe she’s freaking out, just a little, because she avoided this, avoided their bed because she didn’t want it to mean anything. It’s stupid if she really thinks about it, they’ve fucked pretty much everywhere else, why would this be any different? Except it is, she knows, and she thinks Judy knows it too. She wonders if she’s going to pretend there is no shift or if she’s going to finally take this opportunity to ask Judy for more.

Jen is still looking at her when she opens her eyes, staring directly at the ceiling. Judy’s eyes widen the tiniest bit and then she turns to Jen. They’re still tangled together, but Jen takes her eyes off of her and looks at the ceiling quickly, stupidly, mimicking Judy’s position from before. It’s dumb and shows insecurity but she’s way past the level that she cares about that. She breathes a little deeper than she intended, but turns to the clock on her bedside table, sees it’s just one minute past nine and she wishes, _God_ how she wishes, that it was still 8:59 that she hadn’t woken up yet. Judy asks, so low Jen doesn’t know if she’s imagining it, doesn’t know if she’s imagining all of this, then realizes the universe wouldn’t give her that blessing, and lets her brain absorb the question, “ _what time is it?_ ”, “ _9:01_ ” is her short answer. The brunette, if it’s out of pity or discomfort she will never now, gets up and says she’s going downstairs to make breakfast. It’s an out, she knows it is, but she doesn’t want it, doesn’t want anything that doesn’t have to do with _Judy_ and _being together_ in the same sentence anymore. She reaches an arm and grabs Judy’s wrist, squeezes it and lets her eyes go soft in the way they’ve been begging to since the beginning of all of this. Jen says “ _can we talk after you’re done?_ ” and Judy replies the sweetest “ _sure_ " she has ever heard. She associates the feeling with hope.

It doesn’t take too long. Although it’s enough for her to shower and climb back into comfortable clothes, for her to watch her kids stuff their faces with waffles downstairs, for Judy to force her to eat at least an yogurt, and it feels normal, even if it’s not, she thinks it might grow to be. Suddenly, they’re back upstairs and Judy’s fidgeting while standing up again. Jen is sitting on their bed and watching her, eyes that she knows carries too much wonder in them.

“Can you sit?” Jen asks, patting the bed softly beside her. Judy nods in silence, plays with the corner of the duvet. “Why are you so nervous?”

“You know why.”

“Enlighten me.” It was not supposed to come out as a plea, but it did, somehow hidden behind the light sarcasm.

“Do you think it means anything?”

“I think it means if we were avoiding it.”

“Were we?”

“I was.” Judy looks up at her. “Were you?”

“Yeah… I was too.”

“Do you remember anything?”

“Not entirely. Do you?”

“Same here.” Jen takes a breath. “I really don’t know how to say what I want to say.”

“Do you want to stop? ‘Cause we can, you know?”

“Do you?”

“I asked you first.” Judy pouts and she lets out a chuckle.

“You're adorable, do you know that?” Judy blushes a little, then. “I don’t want to stop.”

“Me neither.” She bites her lip. “What is it that you want to say?”

“Have you considered having… anything more?” Judy’s eyes widen and she prepares herself for the blow, but her friend nods, still looking sheepish, somehow.

“I thought we were heading there, and then you got distant so I assumed you wouldn't want it.”

“I didn’t think I did either.” The brunette frowns. “It took me a while to realize, you know? But I guess this has been an excuse since the beginning.”

“An excuse for what?”

“For being close to you.” Jen chortles, as if it’s obvious, maybe it is. “Seriously, no strings attached doesn’t mean co-parenting and sharing a bed, Judes.” Judy giggles and she smiles.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.” Jen says, no lies there. “Even though I think we should work on the communication.” That earns her another giggle. “We can fuck here all you want now.” Now, _that_ earns her a shove.

“Shut up.” Judy moves closer and cocks her head to the side, contemplating what to do next. Jen just pulls her softly by the neck and kisses her.

“I love you.” She murmurs against Judy’s lips.

“I love you too.”

She remembers now, how she said it when she was delighted in the afterglow on the night before, how Judy said it back and they laughed. She remembers and knows that Judy does too because her eyes widen in realization the moment she says it, before moving down to kiss Jen again.

And no, Jen has never been this stupid about anything in her life, but if it brought her here, does it really matter how?

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading :)


End file.
